


Old Cardigan

by Thighkyuu



Category: Jjba - Fandom, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: More fluff than expected, gender neutral reader, im not sorry, yet another folklore based fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25853785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighkyuu/pseuds/Thighkyuu
Summary: Sometimes Rohan felt like an old cardigan.He felt like something that people picked up, wore a couple of times, then shoved under the bed and forgot about. Not in his career - that was going well - it was his personal relationships. People tried - and failed - to penetrate his unsociable shell, and dropped him. The only people who had bothered to stick around were Koichi and his ridiculous friends Josuke and Okuyasu.Well. And you.*hello this one's for cardigan by Taylor Swift, listen while you read if you can*
Relationships: Rohan Kishibe x Reader - Relationship, kishibe rohan x reader - Relationship, rohan kishibe x gn!reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 70





	Old Cardigan

Sometimes Rohan felt like an old cardigan.

He felt like something that people picked up, wore a couple of times, then shoved under the bed and forgot about. Not in his career - that was going well - it was his personal relationships. People tried - and failed - to penetrate his unsociable shell, and dropped him. The only people who had bothered to stick around were Koichi and his ridiculous friends Josuke and Okuyasu.

Well. And you.

You weren’t exactly a new fixture in his life - your family and Josuke’s were old friends, and so you tended to hang out with them, despite being Rohan’s age. Koichi brought you and the others around to his house often, and at first he found you as insufferable as the others. But, as Koichi had, you grew on him. He’d never admit it, but you impressed him. You were so uniquely, unapologetically, you. And you put up with his jabs in the most unexpected way. You grinned.

He’d never used Heaven’s Door on you, under the request of Koichi, but he’d gleaned a little bit of information from back when he first met Koichi. Enough to be satisfied that you were relatively harmless to him (he’d found out later that you have a stand, but by then he didn’t much care). At least, you were supposed to be.

He hadn’t expected to start falling for you.

You had a way of making people feel like they were the most important person in the world when you looked at them, when you listened. Your smile could light up the world, he sometimes thought, and you somehow thought watching him sketch was the most fascinating thing in the world. And you always surprised him with your stubborn care for anyone close to you. Even him.

He was even more surprised when you showed up at his door one day, in the rain. He was amidst his most recent breakup, and not in the mood to see anyone. But you barged into his house, made tea, turned on his favourite show, and forced him to take a break from the work he’d thrown himself into like he always did after a breakup. You ignored his snide remarks and hateful comments, made him dinner, and then asked if he was okay.

“Of course I’m okay.” He didn’t even know how you knew about the breakup.

“The guys were saying you really liked this one.” He had, he wouldn’t lie (to himself, anyway).

“I’m used to breakups. If they can’t handle me, it’s their loss.” He hadn’t been able to read your expression, then, and you hadn’t asked again. He woke up the next morning curled up on the couch, with breakfast on his coffee table and a note from you saying you’d had to go but he had better eat, or else. He’d smiled to himself, shaking his head. He knew then that you would ruin him, completely and utterly, and he wasn’t sure he cared.

He was proved right nearly a month later when he kissed you on a whim and it felt electric. Everywhere your skin was on his, sparks traveled through his veins. It was the best thing he’d ever experienced. He never admitted this fact to you, but if he could have just kept kissing you, he was sure he would have been content for the rest of his life.

After that, and you agreed to be his s/o, he put in effort to make you happy. He took you anywhere you wanted to go, even if he didn’t much care for it. You always respected his need for space, but, somehow, you always seemed to know when he needed you to stay. He refused to let himself get too comfortable, though. Just in case.

~

“Something’s bothering you,” he nearly jumped, not expecting you to appear behind him. He’d been staring out the window rather than working on his drawing, lost in thought. Wondering vaguely, as he always did, if you were going to be like the others. If, once the thrill of being with him expired, you would discard him like many of the others had. Sometimes he ended things before it could go that far. Other times, he ended up like some of his old cardigans. He had to weigh the options - was it worth it to be hopeful? Was it worth the pain?

One of his least favourite things about himself was his ability to fall in love. He completely and utterly tumbled head over heels and that was that. He would never admit it, of course, but it hurt every time someone left. He tried to brush it off like it was nothing, laughing saying it wasn’t a big deal. That he didn’t care. His prickly personality made for an easy shield. Only a couple of people would ever be able to tell he was upset, and he made sure it was more trouble than it was worth to comment on.

You, though. You felt different. Even when you left his presence you seemed to linger - just like one of your kisses to his collarbone. He would definitely have trouble if you were like so many of the others. He had a feeling he’d be cursing you for a long time, that you would always haunt all his what-ifs. He really hoped you didn’t leave. But this isn’t something he’d admit. Not to you, not to anyone.

“It’s nothing,” he says, not bothering to turn his head to look at you and instead focusing back on his sketch. This didn’t last long, though, as a moment later he felt your lips by his ear and a jolt of electricity went up his spine.

“Rohan,” your voice is soft, “I’m not blind.” You shift, moving to sit in front of him in his window perch. “Something’s bothering you. Talk to me.” He meets your eyes and finds genuine concern there, and, for a moment, he can’t find his words. This is new. And very undignified.

“Nothing’s bothering me, Y/N.”

“Yes there is. You’ve got that worried divot between your eyebrows and your mouth is pressed into near non-existence like it always is when you’re upset.” He looks away, back out the window. Could he do this? Could he give up one of his most vulnerable places, one of his insecurities, to you? Trusting people with his life - as he had Josuke before - is much different than trusting people with his shame. And he trusted no one with his shame.

Unbeknownst to him, though, you had ideas about what was going on in his head. Something Koichi had mentioned offhandedly had given you the idea. And you knew Rohan better than he thought you did. You could say the words for him, if he couldn’t. You knew what it was to be afraid to share your shame.

“You’re afraid,” you begin, and he stiffens slightly. “You’re worried that I’m going to throw you away once the ‘thrill’ is gone.” He keeps his eyes trained on a distant building, not looking at you.

“Like I would ever think something so undignified.” There’s an edge to his voice, and you know you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“You’re not a cardigan, Rohan, to be worn out and discarded.” You pause and smile. “If you were, you’d be my favourite. But you’re not. You’re Rohan Kishibe, mangaka, simultaneously the most selfish and most caring - about people close to you, anyway - person I’ve ever met. You’re a lot like a cactus, sometimes. All prickly pins when people try to get close. But, Rohan,” You reach out and cup his jaw, running your thumb across his cheekbone, “I’m not going anywhere.” You feel him lean into your touch, just a little, but then he’s moving, standing, striding across the room and waving his hand dismissively. 

“Don’t be foolish, Y/N. As if I, Rohan Kishibe, would ever have to worry about something like that. Have you met me?” His tone is dismissive and rude, and he sounds like the bastard he is. But he isn’t fooling you one bit.

He reaches the door to the room and turns his head to look at you, still sitting on the window seat. His eyes soften, just for a minute, then he’s gone. You sigh, but there’s a smile playing at your lips. Dating the infamously selfish and closed off Rohan was never going to be easy, but you were confident the two of you were going to be alright.

~

Rohan had been right. You were going to destroy him.

Not in any bad way, but with every small smile, every glint in your eye, every kiss, he felt himself getting a little more lost in you. And, at this point, he knew he wasn’t fooling you one bit when he acted like a royal pain in the ass. You’d been there on his best days, when he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead and there wasn’t anyone in the world more important. You’d been there on his worst days when insults poured from his mouth and he shook and pretended like he wasn’t struggling so badly that he needed to cry. You’d been there for his most vulnerable moments, when he’d needed you to stay and hadn’t been able to voice the indignity of it, but you knew anyway. And you said it for him.

He’d been there for you, too, on your best days when you laughed and smiled and stayed in bed with him all day. And he’d been there on your worst days when your mind played tricks on you and you were so empty that you couldn’t get out of bed. He was there for your vulnerable moments, when you admitted for the first time that you loved him, when you shared your fears.

It had been nearly two years since the moment you told him you weren’t going anywhere. It had taken a long time for him to talk to you about it, for him to trust you with his shame. But he did trust you. And he loved you more than he cared to ever admit.

Yes, he had definitely been right. You had destroyed him in the best way possible, and when he had his arms around you, your eyes locked with his and everything was perfect, he knew what you had said was true. He wasn’t an old cardigan to be worn out and thrown away.

He was Rohan Kishibe, and he would never have feel that way again.


End file.
